


Exigent But Unexpected Circumstances

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, S&M fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 00:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17929286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Neal and Peter are hot on the trail of a suspected buyer of stolen artwork. They didn’t actually find any when they went to investigate, but they did discover something else that was pretty extraordinary. Just a light-hearted fun story for your reading pleasure.





	Exigent But Unexpected Circumstances

On a fine morning in May, Peter and Neal found themselves making their way to Long Island Sound. Several very high-end thefts of valuable masterpieces had recently occurred in art museums throughout Manhattan, and Long Island was where their current suspect had a second home.

After an uneventful ride, Peter pulled his Taurus into the circular driveway of a McMansion owned by a nuevo riche stock investor who appeared to have amassed more money than Midas. Of course, the guy wasn’t the actual thief, but he had secured the services of a reliable, if shady, fence to obtain the paintings he coveted. Fortuitously, the FBI unearthed the middleman and persuaded him to give up a customer’s name in lieu of a prison sentence. Right now, it was the word of a twitchy and nefarious individual seeking to feather his own nest, so the FBI was still holding their breath and hoping a Federal judge would go out on a limb and sign a search warrant. As yet, that unsigned document hadn’t materialized. Peter had decided on a whim to make an impromptu visit to rattle the money mogul’s cage. If he succeeded in making the dude nervous, maybe he would do something stupid to trip himself up. On the flip side of the coin, if they were invited inside his home and the tycoon had the conceited hubris to display his felonious acquisitions, Neal would spot an authentic masterpiece in a heartbeat.

Now at their destination, Peter and Neal climbed from the car and made their way up a winding flagstone path to a set of impressive mahogany doors. Peter kept his finger pressed on the bell, and even started pounding with his fist when everything remained closed up tight.

“It doesn’t seem as if the lord of the manor is currently home,” he said to Neal in frustration. Receiving no answer, Peter turned around expecting to see his CI behind him. Foolish, foolish man! When had Neal ever stayed where he was supposed to be?

“Neal!” Peter hissed. “Neal!!” he said a second time a bit more forcefully.

“Right here,” a voice finally answered as one of the mansion’s doors swung open to reveal the grinning young man. “I found an accessible side entrance and I let myself in.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter was beyond pissed. “We don’t have a warrant, you idiot, and what you just did is breaking and entering!”

“Now, Peter, don’t get your shorts in a knot,” Neal answered quietly. “I thought I may have heard someone in here cry out as if they were injured. Of course, it may have just been the wind blowing through the trees or a stray cat mewling, but I couldn’t take that chance. So, exigent circumstances dictated that I render whatever aid I could.”

“Get your ass out here right now,” Peter demanded. “You probably set off a silent alarm and the cops are on their way.”

Neal gave a disappointed sigh. “Peter, please, when have you ever known me to be so careless? This house is old and probably had the alarm system installed a few decades ago. The whole shebang is wired into an antiquated landline with the exterior phone box located on the outside masonry. I merely took the precaution of rewiring a few things to circumvent any outgoing calls. So, do come in. Mi casa is su casa.” 

Peter was still sputtering his outrage, but he was talking to dead air. Neal had already meandered away and was curiously poking his head in various baronial rooms.

“Stop!” Peter barked. “Just stop right now!” he emphasized as he put stress on each word through clenched teeth.

“Don’t worry, Partner, I’ll put everything back together again after we finish our scavenger hunt,” Neal called over his shoulder. “And if, by chance, we happen upon a smoking gun, you can thank me later.”

“Neal, stop!” Peter reiterated his stern warning.

The young man paid no heed to his agitated handler, and Peter found himself scurrying to keep up. He temporarily lost sight of his charge after a few turns through a library and a butler’s pantry. He finally found his errant confidential informant standing in front of a wooden door off to the side of the kitchen with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Of course, this may lead to a wine cellar,” Neal postulated. “I guess we’ll just have to see for ourselves,” he added as he opened the portal and began descending a set of stairs with a resigned Peter following in his wake. The basement was dark, so both he and Peter were using the flashlights on their phones to illuminate the surroundings. Not unexpectedly, this basement contained exactly what other basements usually had in them—a huge furnace and hot water heater as well as a water purification system. The entire area wasn’t that large for a home of this size, so Neal wasn’t surprised when he spied another door made of steel in the subterranean space. Maybe this was the entrance to a covert Aladdin’s cave of illegitimately-obtained treasures.

“Allow me,” Peter growled as he grabbed the handle and pushed, finally reconciled to breaking the law. He cautiously stepped into Stygian darkness with Neal practically breathing down the back of his neck. Suddenly, without any warning, the door’s hardware was forcefully wrenched out of his hand and he heard a sort of pneumatic whoosh before the access panel slammed shut with a clank. Peter whirled around knocking Neal out of the way. He shone his penlight behind him and didn’t see a door handle. Instead, there was an intricate keypad mounted in its place.

“What the fuck just happened?” he whispered into the darkness.

“I think you may have inadvertently crossed an invisible trip wire, Peter,” Neal whispered, “and the door went into failsafe mode and automatically locked us in here.”

“Well, where is _here?_ ” Peter demanded to know. “Is this some sort of panic room?”

Neal had been carefully running his hands up adjacent cinder block walls until he located a simple flip switch. When illumination flooded the space, he was better able to shed some light on the subject for his partner.

“Well, Peter, I don’t think I’d call this a panic room, exactly. I think it’s more like a playroom of sorts.”

The FBI agent, recently turned home invader, spun around to survey his surroundings and felt his mouth drop open in amazement. The expansive hidden room was bathed in dim red light, and when Peter’s eyes acclimated to the garish glow, he was able to make out what appeared to be the hedonistic pleasure den of a sadomasochist. All four walls were adorned with every conceivable piece of equipment needed to deliver pain to another person.

There were handcuffs, leg irons, paddles, whips, riding crops, chains, studded leather collars, and other long leather binding strips. Interspersed within the paraphernalia were black and white posters of muscular men in masks sporting huge erections while inflicting punishing torment upon their cowering victims. Not exactly the type of artwork they were looking for.

Across the room, there was a tall wooden apparatus in the shape of an X situated under an overhead steel beam with pieces of dangling chain that ended in manacles. Beside it was a parody of a gymnastic vaulting horse, only instead of just two handles mounted on the surface, there was an addition of an enormous black dildo in between the grips. It stood erect and proud like a miniature version of the Chrysler or the Empire State Buildings but minus their needle-like spires.

Peter strolled around some tables where smaller items were laid out like a surgeon meticulously arranged his instruments before an operation. In place of forceps and scalpels, there were cock rings, ball gags, and butt plugs. A confused man picked up a few extraneous items with a puzzled look on his face. He was holding two different sized hollow tubes made of clear silicon with knubby projections across their outer surfaces.

“The smaller one is for your finger,” Neal said nonchalantly, “and the larger one is for your dick. Each one is meant to stimulate an orifice or a prostate.”

Peter shot his knowledgeable partner a quick glance before picking up what appeared to be a small, stainless-steel representation of a pineapple. There was a ring at the base, and when Peter turned it curiously, tiny leaflets on the surface of the pineapple widened in size.

“Maybe you don’t really want to know about that one,” Neal said with an arched eyebrow.

“I can use my imagination, Neal,” Peter quipped. “My God, this is like the Marquis de Sade’s depraved club house,” Peter whispered.

“Perhaps what you consider depraved, Buddy, others may consider pleasurable,” Neal replied softly. “There’s no law against two consenting adults indulging in something that meets both their needs. You shouldn’t judge if you haven’t tried it. And, for the record,” he added, “you really shouldn’t act like such a prude considering our situation.”

Of course, Neal was referring to the sexual liaison between Peter and himself that had been going on for over a year. It had started out quite innocently enough, spearheaded by just an offhanded comment coming from Peter’s wife. Elizabeth’s event planning venture had morphed into a burgeoning, all-consuming success. Almost every weekend, she found herself overseeing a highbrow function, sometimes in another state or even another country if the venue was a destination wedding. Peter spent many nights and most weekends with just Satchmo for company, and El wasn’t immune to the feelings of guilt caused by her absence. One evening, she corralled the handsome con man when he came for dinner. While Peter was in the kitchen stacking dishes in the sink, she perched beside Neal on the sofa and looked deep into his blue eyes.

“Neal, I was wondering if you could do a huge favor for me,” she purred softly.

“Anything, Elizabeth,” the unsuspecting guest agreed.

“Well, as you know, I seem to be away from home a lot of the time, and Peter gets lonely. Like all lusty men, he has needs, and those needs aren’t being met. I was hoping you could stand in for me and fill those particular deficits for my husband. Both Peter and I would be very appreciative of any efforts on your part in that endeavor.”

Neal’s eyebrows were reaching for his hairline. “Elizabeth, I’m not sure I understand correctly,” he stalled.

“Oh, I think you do understand, Neal. You’re a very smart guy,” El smirked.

“Does Peter know that you’re asking me this?” Neal almost squeaked.

“Oh, Sweetie, there has been ongoing pillow talk in our bedroom for months about this very real possibility.”

So, that was how it had all begun—extremely civilized with everyone’s consent and stamp of approval. Initially, there had been some embarrassed and clumsy fumbling between a con man and his handler until they found their comfort zones. After they had synced into a familiar rhythm, the early encounters were hot and fevered in intensity. As time wore on, the sex became less urgent but, nonetheless, it was a pleasurable and fulfilling interaction between them. Each had great respect for the other as they continued to act out their erotic feelings beyond the staid FBI office. Euphemistically speaking, their relationship could be construed as a rather white bread dynamic, if you could even label two men fucking each other as “white bread.” There was never any pain inflicted by either party, no role-playing, or bondage scenarios. They didn’t need any of that to reach their Nirvanas.

However, right at this moment, Peter wasn’t residing in his own land of heavenly bliss, or any good place, for that matter. He was maniacally pacing. “Can you crack the code on this keypad and get us out of here?” he asked Neal frantically. “It’s the least you can do, Mr. Criminal, since it was your impulsive actions that got us into this mess.”

Neal huffed out his displeasure. “Peter, assuming it’s a four-digit code, there are exactly 999,999 possible combinations on a keypad containing ten numbers. So, no, I cannot just blithely figure it out, at least not in this century!”

“Well, isn’t that just wonderful!” Peter mocked in disgust.

“Just calm down, Peter,” Neal said breezily. “Luckily, I know someone who has the arcane illegal tools that can do the job. I’m calling Mozzie right now.”

“Moz, I’ve got a bit of a problem,” Neal began when the little bald man picked up.

Eventually, Neal disconnected and turned to Peter with some upbeat news. “He’ll be on his way as soon as he collects the things that he needs from some storage locker in the city. It may take a while, Peter, so relax and kick back until the cavalry arrives.”

Neal took his own advice as he slowly sauntered around the room, occasionally stopping to sensuously fondle a piece of soft leather or run his long fingers through the trailing strands of a cat-o-nine tails. Peter watched his partner through narrowed eyes.

“You look pretty serene, almost strangely comfortable, in this weird environment, Neal, and you also seem very familiar with all the gadgets,” Peter noted with a frown. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“Not really,” Neal drawled as he picked up a dildo whose length had obviously been enhanced beyond the parameters of normal male anatomy. He contemplated it thoughtfully before replacing it, almost reverently, on the table.

Now a little suspicion arose from the depths of Peter’s primal lizard brain. “Neal, did you ever take part in any kind of S&M relationship during all those years when I was chasing you? The Bureau knew you had visited some sketchy areas in Europe and the Orient, and we completely lost sight of you for a time in Hong Kong as well as when you traveled to Bangkok. What kinds of things were you into during those gaps in your timeline?”

Neal slowly shook his head and laughed. “Peter, please, just let this go. My previous sexual activities as well as any of my alleged past crimes are not up for discussion and never will be.”

“So, you won’t tell me,” Peter pouted. “That will just force me to use my imagination and picture the worst.”

When Neal just shrugged and smiled, Peter did just that.

~~~~~~~~~~

It took a long four and a half hours for Mozzie to get where he needed to be and to do his thing. He stood outside of the locked door and used a little box that he had laboriously designed for the decryption of keypad codes. He had previously constructed the matrix himself and had programmed the deciphering algorithms for just such a temporary impediment. That had come in handy during many past capers. Right now, the red and green lights were blinking furiously on the tiny LCD screen until the rescuer was gratified to hear the lock disengage and feel the door swing inward. Mozzie grinned and stepped into the unknown space, but he was suddenly engulfed in surreal stupefaction.

The sight before him defied the imagination. Neal was buck naked with his arms and legs outstretched and manacled as he lay spread-eagled against a wooden support frame. He had an intricate studded harness stretched across his body like the ammo belts holding rows of bullets that Mexican bandoleros wore in old Westerns. The harness snaked down far below his slim waist to include a lariat-type loop cinched around his junk. His vintage tie was being used as a gag, and wicked-looking nipple clamps completed the astounding ensemble.

Mozzie’s impromptu entrance had Peter frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. The bare-chested federal agent half turned but not before Mozzie got a full view of his ass-less leather chaps. The embarrassed man slowly lowered the braided crop in his hand and grimaced. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so it was up to Neal’s astonished cohort to provide the commentary.

“I can never unsee this,” Mozzie whispered in horror as he gaped like a fish out of water. “You two need to cease and desist right now! Neal, get yourself out of those ridiculous handcuffs, and both of you fools put on some clothes. This whole scene is offensive to my delicate sensibilities. I’m just going to step outside before my eyes start to bleed, and, for the record, we will _never_ , _ever_ speak of this again!”


End file.
